


Point of a Needle

by levitatethis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-03
Updated: 2008-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel struggles to walk the fine line between Dean and Uriel</p>
            </blockquote>





	Point of a Needle

_“You can’t trust freedom   
When it’s not in your hand   
When everybody’s fighting   
For the promised land” _   
**-Guns ‘n’ Roses, ** _ **Civil War ** _

“So I failed your test, huh? I get it.”

Castiel does not agree or contradict him. Silence is a golden rule long forgotten and what should pass as contemplative consideration takes on the guise of churning disapproval.

Humans are both quick to imagine that they are the greatest of all living creatures while thinking the worst of themselves in the process. It is a fascinating contradiction and it is not lost on Castiel why the greatest war ever fought—the one that tore Heaven apart—found _them_ at the heart of it.

Knowing that is not the same as accepting it. Having to deal with humans is curious and mind numbing. They only see themselves.

Dean does not notice the lack of initial response as he lays bare the inner sanctum of his mind. Castiel does not expect him to.

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ************

 

They walk out in the open but remain undetected.

With a thirty foot wingspan from tip to tip they could render the awe they deserve, if they chose to. But the bodies they inhabit, these mortal coils, are the compromise they must make to gain the most headway.

Uriel maneuvers his body with respect and distaste. He uses words like tainted and base; his tone drips with condescension. If Castiel had his choice he would not put up with such derision. Not when so much is a stake.

But there is no rank to pull.

Uriel is important and here out of courtesy. Of all Castiel’s brothers, Uriel is the toughest to convince of Dean’s importance. He is also unparalleled in intellectual and physical prowess. With him on board the others would fall more willingly in line.

Castiel bites back his tongue.

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ************

 

“This is the one we are expected to turn to?” Uriel asks, his tone demanding.

“Yes,” Castiel says, and he prepares for yet another disagreement. “He is stronger than he looks.”

Uriel scowls and turns back to the window. He pulls back the curtain and peers outside. “What strength? These mud monkeys are weak and absolutely fallible.”

“Watch it.” Castiel stands up from the edge of the bed. “You’re beginning to sound like _him_.”

After a pause, the words of the Hellish insult well placed and strongly felt, Uriel says, “I’ve never had an issue with _his_ motives. Rather it was _his_ course of action that lost _him_ the first war.”

“That is a very slippery slope you’re angling on,” Castiel tones firmly and crosses the floor. It is pertinent that he asserts the importance of his position or else another battle will need to be fought.

Uriel turns around. Anger flares in his wide darkened eyes, stiff jaw and the steady strides he takes towards him. “You took it upon yourself to breach the border, all for this _non-believer._ And I’m supposed to be enamored with his posturing.”

Castiel looks away, pensively, then settles his gaze on Uriel. “Dean just needs a little persuasion. He’s a fighter. He will do what is necessary.”

Uriel eyes him with a thoughtfulness that reeks of scrutiny. “Ye of too much faith. You’re sounding more and more like _Him_.”

Castiel steps closer and juts his head forward, angling it slightly. “If we’re going to do this then we need to believe. Our doubts must not be used as a weapon with which to strike us down.”

The reminder of their purpose has the intended effect of halting Uriel’s interrogation. He sighs acquiescently and stares off to the side, presumably calming his temper.

“And Sam?” Uriel asks, regaining eye contact.

“A means to an end, as we’ve already discussed,” Castiel says.

“It will not be easy to guide Dean towards sacrificing his brother when the time comes,” Uriel says, pointing out the obvious kink in the plans.

“Don’t concern yourself with such matters,” Castiel firmly states. “Dean will do what is asked of him.”

Uriel holds his gaze and then turns back to the window. Sauntering over, he pulls the curtain aside to look out into the sun-drenched parking lot. Castiel is sure something is nipping at his lips, refusing to die at the back of his throat. He almost expects a smirk when Uriel turns to look back at him; instead it is a glower.

“You have a far too high opinion of him,” Uriel says. “Some might say it’s a soft spot.”

Castiel bristles at the judgment and suggestion that this is not the first time his actions have been challenged. It does not help matters that there is some truth to the attack.

“I don’t care to be called out by those who would do best to heed my words. I have taken on great risk for our side. Do not question my loyalty.”

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ************

 

Castiel walks a tightrope.

He brings up Hell when it is necessary to remind Dean of his reason behind being broken free from the clawed grasp of Hell creatures. Heaven is conjured forth when he needs to curtail Uriel’s insistent questions. It is an endless cycle of jumping from one stone to the next and Castiel’s doubts are as real as anyone else’s.

The scale of this battle is grand. It stretches deep through the earth’s core and away into space. Its circumference is infinite, timeless, unbound and unrestricted by laws.

Familiar faces from the last time trip the switch of friend and foe; it is the heartbreaking and brutal reality of choosing sides when there is no clear-cut answer. They come at him from all sides; demanding, pleading, arguing and agreeing. It is broken telephone and static interference.

Castiel is in turmoil. The wounded demand retribution and he intends to deliver, but the road is very difficult.

He is being tested as well.

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ********** **

 

Sam is infuriating. He is polite good manners and interested questions, open-minded yearnings and emotionally short-circuited.

He is also one of _them_.

It is a wisely played hand by the other side, providing all manners of complication for Castiel and his band of angelic warriors.

Dean refers to Sam as the good one, the irony of which is palpable. His unrelenting manifesto to do everything out of protection for his brother poses a nearly insurmountable obstacle. Castiel is also struck by the depth of their devotion to one another. At a less critical time he would be moved to inquire about the intricacies that such a bond entails. As it exists amongst humans, that is; he knows well enough the powerful ties that connect angel to angel.

Love is not blind. It closes its eyes.

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ************

 

“It’s time,” Uriel says, the words carry everything that needs to be said, no more, no less.

Castiel is silent. No answer of acknowledgement is required. His complicity is understood.

“This happens tonight,” Uriel goes on. As deliberately combative as his tone is, the enjoyment he is feeling at getting to lay out the final strike is obvious in the upward curl of his lips.

If he is taking any pleasure in knowing that Castiel is feeling himself in an unexpectedly precarious position, however, he does not show it. Castiel is thankful for small favours.

When he had pulled Dean out of Hell he knew there would be mitigating factors to what may or may not be able to occur. Actually feeling sympathy was not one of them. Dean’s brashness, his defiance, devotion, and broken being, once an irritating barricade to be penetrated, has become something Castiel finds most riveting. To be taken with a human is unthinkable and yet Castiel cannot imagine how else to describe what he feels.

In the fight, Dean had surprised him. He had been exactly what Castiel needed and ordered. And though it was humanity spoken of as a whole there was no denying that it was Sam whose face flashed through Dean’s brain.

Downsides and setbacks aside (and there had been plenty of those), they had scraped through—the walking dead, the living wounded. Rivers of blood, fire and brimstone, the word turned on its axis because it did not know any better. Humanity does not comprehend what has been sacrificed for it.

But there is still one more thing and Uriel is right to remind him—though Castiel wishes it would be forgotten for at least another day. It is the final test for both he and Dean. Sam is in the balance, but then again so is the world.

After everything, Dean is more trusting of Castiel. Suspicions are still in place but he is more inclined to give Castiel’s demands credence. It is the payoff of hard work and built trust, but in this final act Dean will be altered forever.

Regrets do not plague angels. All the same, Castiel faces a long night.

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ********** **

 

Dean looks peaceful in sleep. It is a lie to be sure, but a welcome delusion given what they have been through. Castiel silently sits next to his stretched out form, taking a momentary comfort in the tranquility that extends between them. If he possessed the power to make this forever—

Dean startles awake, bolting upright. He warily looks at Sam sleeping on the other bed then over at Castiel. “You really need to learn to call first.”

Castiel hides his trepidation in default stoicism. “How are you, Dean?”

“After everything’s that happened? It’s all smirks and giggles, don’t you think?” Dean replies with a tired but small smile on his lips.

It is the closest Castiel has seen to a genuine grin on Dean’s face and he makes note of it for remembrance sake. Caught up in his thoughts it is only when Dean narrows his eyes at him that Castiel realizes he has said nothing.

“It’s all good, right?” Dean asks, and Castiel is surprised to have been read by him. “Devil sent out his minions and we tag teamed the son of a bitches straight back to Hell.”

“There are still some loose ends that need to be tied up,” Castiel says carefully.

“But the worst is over,” Dean clarifies and he gazes back over at Sam.

Castiel observes the unyielding display of brotherly affection. “Yes,” he says quietly, knowing it will be irrevocably changed before the night is over.

Castiel closes his eyes in preparatory contemplation.

Opening them, he begins.   
 


End file.
